Measurements
by Zamael
Summary: In order to build the robot body for his friend's friend, Equius Zahhak had to perform some rather deep-reaching studies. He certainly would not bother with such matters otherwise, and definitely feels nothing but contempt towards this other troll.


The dim bulbs of the workshop ceiling slowly flickered into life, flashing on and off before finally settling on illuminating the room, just enough to provide an industrious troll enough light to not having to work in total darkness, but not enough to make him feel instinctively alarmed about being in full daylight, in the mercy of the living dead and other beasts.

Literal piles of scrap metal were displayed, much of them worked and arranged into shapes roughly equivelent to trolls, with two hands, two feet, torso, head, and horns - but little to no resemblance beyond the superficial. They could follow the mental command to wake up and try to beat the shit out of the closest live being, but there was no subtlety or craftsmanship beyond that.

Equius Zahhak considered himself a mechanical genius, but these crude, rusty, ugly things reflected absolutely none of it, apart from perhaps the fact that he could build one from scratch literally in five minutes, which did not much show from the finished product anyway. He only did use them to blow off steam, which never required much.

Sometimes, however, he had greater ambitions. Sometimes he wished to build something more than a moving punching bag. Sometimes he had tasks or goals that would require all the care and patience he could muster, to put his everything into a given work. The mechanical arm and eye he had whipped out for his next-door neighbour was a start - it at least took him several hours instead of just a minute or two he would usually spend in a limb and an organ - but still far from his true talent.

To build what he was going to build, he would need planning, preparation, and tact. He would need to find things out. And he would need blueprints, which he thankfully had already: he spread the large scroll on an empty part in the middle of the room...

...And promptly tore it in half. "...Fudgesickles."

All right, this was not that big of a deal. They are just in two pieces instead of one. He can just, carefully, place them back next to each other to sort of make the thing whole again, at least good enough so... there we go. All good.

It was a very detailed blueprint, displaying a creature made out of metal. Not one of the unsophisticated robots littering the workshop, but a highly detailed and intricate specimen, one that could be mistaken for a live troll girl if not for the fact that her skin was still made of metal. Countless words, scribbles, and smaller doodles surrounded the main drawing, serving as further notes and details of her inner functions and the physics and mechanics behind them.

To an uninitiated observer it would have looked an exact copy, a perfect replica of a deceased troll. But Equius was not an uninitated observer. He knew that this was nothing he could immediately start working on, not yet. He still required something more, something just as important. He needed to know something he does not know, more details of Aradia Megido for whom he intended the machine.

Thankfully, he had that perfectly under control.

* * *

centaursTesticle [CT] began trolling arachnidsGrip [AG]

CT: D - Do you have it

AG: Whaaaaaaaat.

CT: D - You know what I mean

CT: D - Do you have it

AG: I know what you mean! You don't need to 8other me about it all the damn time.

AG: I will send them to you when I have them.

CT: D - Very well

CT: D - I will try to exercise some more patience

CT: D - But of course you realize I cannot work without it

AG: Can't you just make a shitty ro8ot that sort of looks like her and 8e done with it?

AG: You suuuuuuuure you don't care a8out her at all?

CT: D - Just

CT: D - What are you implying

AG: I just think it seems funny how you seem to dedic8 yourself more to this project than me. It's my present to her!

CT: D - Yet you don't seem to care too much

CT: D - You say the final quality and craftsmanship of the work is irrelevant for the end result

AG: Well, yeah. I don't really give that 8ig of a shit a8out her.

CT: D - My interest in this project is purely academic

CT: D - I have not built anything so complicated for a very long time

AG: Uh-huh.

CT: D - These 100d accusations are far too horrific and scandalous to be brought up even as a jest

CT: D - You will cease

AG: Oh fiiiiiiiine. Humorless sno8.

CT: D - That's not true

CT: D - I do have sense of humor, but it is far more intricate than this

CT: D - And does not deal with such perversions

CT: D - Anyway

CT: D - When can I 100k forward to receive the package

AG: Oh I've got it.

AG: I can pretty much send it to you right away!

CT: D - Excellent.

CT: D - Do so immediately.

centaursTesticle [CT] ceased trolling arachnidsGrip [AG]

The package arrived a little less than ten minutes later, and Equius did not spend the entire time tapping his foot next to his door - whatever Nepeta says is a filthy lie. It came in a shape of a small picture folder, sealed with ancient troll signs and spells, delivered by a young troll in ragged clothes: from his stiff posture and mild drooling the blueblood could deduce that he was being mind controlled. He carefully set the package down in the entryway, before turning and promptly walking straight down a cliff, where Equius knew his neighbour's lusus made her home.

This mattered little. He carefully picked up the delicate little package and took it down to his workshop, where he could study them further all the time he required. And he would require much study.

* * *

Soon, the seal on the picture folder was broken and its contents were carefully emptied on a table. Unsurprisingly, it contained nothing but pictures of various size and quality, all featuring the same troll in her daily activities and adventures. Some had other trolls, but there were none that did not contain her.

Equius was not an expert of photography, or whatever the equivalent word in the confusing troll language was, but he could see that these would suit for his purposes just fine.

He did not know, nor did he even want to, where Vriska had acquired these things, what she had to do to get her hands to them. But then again, he was sure she was lying when she said she did not care about Aradia, or their present to her. That girl was full of lies and deceit, so unlike Equius, who was as honest and transparent as he ever was.

He selected one of the pictures for closer study. She was alone in it, in an archeological dig of some type or another: this was not Equius's field of science, and nothing he could possibly have given a fudge about. But he did give a fudge about the troll. In the meaning of study, that is to say, of course.

He had met her personally in the past, while she was alive, but only very briefly. He did not know her exact size or measurements, and he had to find out these things were he to rebuild her as a machine. A series of pictures, and the contents of the crate, would be perfect for this purpose.

He was certain she would not mind.

A bead of sweat fell from his brow and to the picture: he ignored it. He brushed the image with his hand as he made measurements, calculations... she was tall and regal, with the posture of someone much higher on the blood scale than she really was. Her hair was long and perfect, and seemed to flow in the winds of whatever place she was in: the background sort of faded away as he focused on her. Her skin was smooth and perfect, her face well-proportioned and noble, her horns... gog, how they reminded him of beasts of old, the mighty monsters of muscle that he himself admired, though she herself was not muscular at all, but rather quite thin and fragile.

He scribed down many notes. Those about her height, her apparent weight, and her body shape, and all the other important things he would certainly need. Other pictures had her from different angles and in different positions, all of which proved to be useful to him for additional information. He double- and triple-checked everything, studied her body intricately - almost intimately - and made absolutely certain that there were no errors in anything he had written down, for even the slightest mistake could be a matter of life and death.

Naturally this was all because he wanted to be sure his project would be an absolute success: no way would he give any time of day for pictures containing a filthy rustblood otherwise, absolutely not. It was probably the thrill and excitenment of this particular project that made his perspiration issue much worse, as well. No other possible reason came to his mind.

* * *

After a couple days, he hung some of the pictures up next to his recuperacoon, so that they could be the last thing he saw every night before he went to sleep, and the very first before he woke up. He believed this would allow him to better draw her picture in his mind, which in turn would make it easier to create her once again from scratch.

He imagined her in person, to try and see in his mind just how tall she was when compared to him.

Sometimes, he thought he could smell her in the pictures. He lamented that the metal he used could never pick up the same scent, no matter how hard he tried. He also was not skilled enough to bring in the warmth and softness of a genuine troll skin (still not very warm and soft, but slightly more so than cold steel).

She picked up a habit of manifesting in his dreams, sometimes in highly inappropriate and disturbing situations with him. He brushed these off as stress, and was certain they would leave him once his creation was finished.

Aurthour started to run out of fresh towels rather too often.

* * *

He never did try to contact her himself, for he could ruin the surprise Vriska was planning for her. But he did receive an occasional pesterlog from his moirail, after some reluctance on her part, and used them to figure out more of her. He would read each of her words over and over, memorize them all, then see how he could apply this to his work. One could never have too much information in this kind of an endeavor, after all.

He tried to imagine her voice. It came surprisingly easy, and was as such trivial to add to the machine.

Then he went on to look at the pictures again, and read her pesterlogs, to make sure one last time he had not made any grievous errors. He briefly thought about disposing of them afterwards, but then decided to instead save them, just in case he might need them if she were to be damaged and required repairs. After all, he was certain Vriska would appreciate that as well, and it was always a good thing to keep his relations with the fellow blueblood good. Even if it require fixing up a filthy peasant such as Aradia.

That's what she was. Filthy. She did not deserve what he was doing to her, and he had no ulterior motives whatsoever.

Honest.

* * *

AC: :33 sooooo

AC: :33 *ac said as she pawed around the catraption*

AC: :33 its ready then?

CT: D - Yes

CT: D - It will be delivered when the time is correct

CT: D - I command you to keep this between us

AC: :33 you got it!

CT: D - Do you think she will like it

CT: D - I worked hard for this

AC: :33 defurnitely! :DD

AC: :33 its almost like real!

AC: :33 *ac thinks it could come alive at any moment and tries to take a catnap on its lap*

CT: D - Cease this f001ishness

AC: :33 pff fine

AC: :33 howd you make it look so real anyway? :?

CT: D - I guess I'm just really good


End file.
